The title of this post were the words that greeted me on Friday Night upon walking through the door of Graffiti. My first visit to a Rock Club in almost eight years.
And, oh my, I had a blast.
The evening had started off as a Christmas Party for Nikki’s binmen. She works for a Refuse Collection place in Burnley, and this was the workforce party. Working Men’s pub, drink tokens, pie and peas, and karaoke. After breaking out ‘Mustang Sally’ and ‘Fairytale in New York’, we decided it was a washout. Most were there for the free beer. Once it had gone, they were off. We met up with one of the new drivers, an ex-army type called Pete, and his wife, Santina. A very nice couple, they dragged us to a pub across the road, where I became a temporary bouncer for the evening, stopping fights.
We then retired to Graffiti. We pole danced, and I moshed to some rocking tuneage. I’d forgotten just how much I love getting on down to some mental music. I left my mobile on a table, and, as testement to the fact that the ‘alternative’ crowd look after one another, I managed to get it back, as it had been handed in to the bar. Try that in other clubs? You’d never get it back.
Anyway, I digress. There was a chap there, as I was boogying on down to ‘Electric Head pt. 2′ by White Zombie, who was astounded as he and I were probably the oldest people in the bar. He demanded a photo.
Oh Dear.
I’ve now decided I quite fancy the idea of running something like this. I know the scene, I think I could make a go of it. I’m thinking begin by running a franchise pub, then doing some theme nights, then open my own place.
Why not? I’m young, I’ve got the energy to do it, I have basic business sense, Nikki has HNDs in public Admin and various other business related activities.
So, that’s my next big thing. You just watch this space in a couple of years. Mr Nightclub Entrepeneur. Or however it’s spelt.
Apologies for the mindless, self indulgent posts. But that is what a blog is all about.